


If You're Gonna Be The Death of Me, That's How I Wanna Go

by 221blackandwhitestripes



Series: Riddlebird Week 2018 [1]
Category: Gotham (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Different First Meeting, Boys Kissing, But at the same time it's really fluffy, Corpses, Crack, Cutting People Open For Fun, Dark, Day 1:First Impressions, Dissection, Ed is a mess, Fluff and Crack, I don't think I reasearched anything for this, M/M, Murder, Pre-Canon, Riddlebird Week, Stabbing, Summer of Gotham, dark humour, i don't know why, season 1 AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-10
Updated: 2018-06-10
Packaged: 2019-05-17 07:30:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14828042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/221blackandwhitestripes/pseuds/221blackandwhitestripes
Summary: It was known as the world’s cruellest twist of fate; the act of finding oneself in the wrong place at the wrong time, so beguiling and frustrating, and the sentiment was certainly not lost on one Edward Nygma on this particular eve.Or, that time Oswald almost killed Ed, and then they end up killing together.Riddlebird Week, Day One: First Impressions





	If You're Gonna Be The Death of Me, That's How I Wanna Go

**Author's Note:**

> Wooh! My first contribution to Riddlebird week. (Can you tell how excited I am for this?) This was literally the only thing I could think of for the prompt because I wanted a different first meeting than in canon. I _think_ that this story is a funny one, mainly because it has them saying tropey, over-used romance lines while holding body parts and knives and stuff. Anyway, I hope you enjoy it.
> 
> Aso, I understand that's it's like one in the morning in the US, but here it's literally 6:14pm, so I'd call this perfectly timed. (Yes I had to wait until you caught up with us. Finally, you can experience the beauty which is June 10th)
> 
> The title comes from the song [Collar Full](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yZAIEAG6Vgk) by Panic! At The Disco.

It was known as the world’s cruellest twist of fate; the act of finding oneself in the wrong place at the wrong time, so beguiling and frustrating, and the sentiment was certainly not lost on one Edward Nygma on this particular eve.

He was walking down an alley when it happened, determined to cut through the late night street traffic and avoid the hoards of drunk people tottering up and down the street, spewing their bodily fluids everywhere. Not to mention the fact he’d fallen asleep at his desk again and he didn’t want to be seen exiting the GCPD’s front door after hours. He was taunted enough by his peers for his idiosyncrasies as it were, he had no intentions of feeding the fire.

He turned a corner around another of Gotham’s rundown buildings, burying his hands deeper into his pockets to stave off the cold. He kept his gaze on the dark concrete as he walked, quickening his pace when he heard a voice up ahead. 

He continued to walk briskly, trying to pass the man speaking as quickly as possible as the voice grew nearer.

He turned another corner, stopping short as he realized he must have miscalculated the route at some point because he'd found himself at a dead end. Although, Ed supposed, that was really the lesser of two evils here.

Ed couldn’t look away, no matter how hard he tried. He just stood there, watching, as a short, dark-haired man shoved a glinting knife again and again into another man’s chest. The man was more than a head shorter than the guy he was stabbing, much shorter than Ed, surely. And yet, the power in his stance, the way his arm jabbed out, again and again, the once clean knife now slick with dark red blood that gleamed in the street lights… This man was bigger than he appeared. He was not held captive by bone and flesh, he was more than a measly meatsuit with an empty skull, he was… _Extraordinary._

“I’m sorry?” The man turned around, brow quirked as he scanned Ed. It occurred to him that he may have said that out loud.

“S-sorry,” Ed stuttered, hating his bumbling voice. This man was diamond-cut strength and roiling darkness, he had no place next to Ed with his gangly limbs and stumbling tongue. “It’s just- I’ve never seen a murder in person.”

“Oh?” The man raised an eyebrow, still focused on Ed rather than the body in his hands.

“N-no. I- I’ve seen bodies and things, b-but never seen them… _become_ dead bodies,” Ed explained, his gaze rapt on the man’s dark suit and piercing eyes. 

_I am at the beginning of all things. I am at the end of eternity. There is but one path from my beginning to my end. My whole embodies indifference. What am I?_

_**Apathy**._

“How’s that then?” The man inquired, fishing out a handkerchief from his pocket and wiping the blade on it before stuffing it back where it came from.

“W-well, I work for the GCPD.”

The man’s stance changed immediately, knife held out threateningly, eyes narrowed, shoulders hunched and tense as if preparing for an attack.

_What is easy to get into, but hard to get out of?_

_**Trouble.** _

“You’re a police officer?”

“Oh. Oh, _heavens_ , no. I-I work in forensics.” Ed felt a blush rise to his cheeks, but he couldn’t quite work out why. 

“Still, I can’t exactly have you running your mouth and telling your boss, now, can I?” The man stalked forward, knife at the ready.

“Oh, oh _please_ , no, sir. I-I honestly didn’t mean to cause any trouble at all. I… I _promise_ that I have no ill intentions, I simply-”

“Then what are your ‘intentions’?” The man spat, still coming closer.

“Honestly, sir, I was just walking home, and I stumbled across you quite by accident,” Ed assured him, his hands waving out in a semblance of surrender without permission. “I-I will happily say goodnight and-and pretend that this never happened.,” Ed insisted, taking a couple steps back.

“Yeah, no that’s not going to happen.” The man chuckled, smiling almost self-deprecatingly. Ed frowned at him in confusion, only to be knocked off his feet and pushed back against the wall behind him. The bricks were dirty and damp, probably with sewer water considering the fact it hadn’t rained that day. Ed had to breathe through his mouth to stomach it, not daring to close his eyes when the other man’s face was so near to his own. 

They were pressed chest to chest, the stranger standing straight on his legs while Ed was leaning back against the wall. The man was grinning at him, eyes dangerous and dark as they gazed into his own. They were so _close_.

“P-please, sir, I-I’ll-” Ed stopped with a gasp, pressing his lips together and swallowing thickly as the man brought the knife up against his throat. It didn’t seem particularly sharp, more for stabbing than slicing, but either way, Ed attempted not to make any sudden movements, less he sliced his artery wide open and ended it all much too soon.

“Why are you smiling?” The man demanded, more curious than angry to Ed’s relief. He hadn’t even known he was doing it, but he suddenly felt the muscles in his cheeks twitch, his breath hissing through his teeth in an almost giggle.

“I... I don’t know,” Ed answered honestly, huffing a breath as he resisted the urge to shake his head. “I just… Watching you do that,” he motioned slightly with his head to the dead body lying on the concrete not too far away. “Had been…” _Amazing. Beautiful. Intoxicating._ “You turned that man into… Into a _thing_. He was a person and now... now he’s just an empty shell, wasting away.” Ed giggled. “I’ve never associated all the bodies I’ve seen as being actual _people_. But you just took one and made it into the other. And now you’re going to do the same to me.”

His laughter had turned hysterical at one point and he struggled desperately not to push against the knife. He wanted this man, with his quicksilver eyes and sure hands, to be the one to bring him over the edge, to send him plummeting into the unknown.

The man in question tilted his head, brow furrowing as he examined Ed. “You _want_ me to kill you? You _want_ to die?”

“Well, no,” Ed admitted sheepishly, his laughter dying back down to giggles. “I don’t want to _die_ , per say. But I wouldn’t mind it particularly if you chose to kill me, either.”

“Huh,” The man’s face pulled back a notch, allowing the cool night air to ghost across Ed’s skin once more, leeching away the warmth the other man’s breath had left there. Here would come the berating, the chorus of _freak, weirdo, insane, odd, strange-_ “Interesting.”

Okay. Unexpected.

“What is your name?” He was smiling, why was he smiling?

“Uh, i-it’s Ed. Edward Nygma.” Ed gulped, staring into the pale eyes in front of him, marvelling in the way they seemed to glow beneath the moonlight.

“I’m Oswald Cobblepot.” Rather than shake his hand, the man - _Oswald_ \- stepped away, removing the knife from his neck.

“H-hello,” Ed greeted with a nod, his right hand coming up to brush over his throat and ensure it truly was fine. Not even a scratch.

“Tell me, Ed,” Oswald cocked his head again. There was something terribly avian in the gesture, the birdlike hook in his nose only adding to the effect, not to mention Oswald’s dark, feathery hair. “Have you ever killed a man?”

“Um, no.” Ed shook his head, trying to stifle the warmth creeping up his neck. He was _blushing_? Why was he _blushing_? There was more shame in committing a murder than admitting he never had, surely?

“Do you want to?” Oswald's eyes didn’t break away, forever staring at Ed, twin moons pouring their light down Ed’s throat like cough syrup.

“N-not without good reason,” Ed stuttered.

“Isn’t _wanting_ to kill someone a good reason?” Oswald asked, arching a brow and smiling smugly.

“Y-yes, w-well, I… I simply meant that the person who I’d kill would have to deserve it. I-I couldn’t just kill anyone off the street,” Ed explained shakily, though whether it was from fear or excitement, he couldn’t tell.

“I was going to kill you, even though you didn’t deserve it,” Oswald reasoned.

“Well, yes, b-but I stumbled upon you while you were committing a crime. You needed to protect yourself from any evidence I could reveal, and thus chose to dispose of me,” Ed replied.

“You have a point there, friend.” Oswald smirked, and it took Ed a second to realize he was joking with him, rather than making fun of him. “Still, are you the man to decide whether or not someone deserves to die?”

“W-well, I’m not, that’s why I haven’t k-killed anybody,” Ed reminded him, pushing his glasses up his nose with a trembling finger.

“ _Well_ ,” Oswald mimicked. “Perhaps it’s time for you to start,” Oswald suggested, smile smug and pale eyes sparking bright.

“What?” Ed gaped.

“Wouldn’t it be fun to make someone into a lifeless thing on the floor?” Oswald reiterated, huffing a laugh.

“B-But-” Ed protested.

“But what, Ed?” Oswald frowned at him condescendingly. “Don’t tell me; it’s _bad_ to go around killing people, correct? Or is it your lack of motive. Let me tell you, friend, a motive is just another piece of evidence against you in court. People forget that all you really need in order to kill someone is a sharp knife or a loaded gun and a can-do attitude.” Oswald smirked, chuckling.

“You mean that?” Ed asked.

“If you feel like doing something, why not try it? You might like it, and if you don’t, you don’t have to do it again,” Oswald reasoned.

“I-I wouldn’t even know how to…” Ed trailed off, huffing in exasperation.

“Good thing you have me, then.” Oswald grinned, his twinkling eyes sending a wave of warmth through Ed’s body, the chill of the night seeping from his bones inexplicably.

“You mean you’ll help me?” Ed asked, a note of reverence in his voice as he stared wide-eyed in disbelief.

“But, of course,” Oswald replied, tipping an invisible hat. He turned his head, suddenly seeming to register the fact they were in a dirty alley with a mutilated dead body for company. “I should probably go meet with my boss and explain what happened.”

“Who?” Ed asked, frowning. He supposed it made sense for Oswald to have a boss, it was just Ed’s meddling preconception that this man, with his wild hair and sharp eyes, wasn’t meant to follow orders but, rather, commision them. Perhaps, one day, he would.

_Journey without me and you will never prevail, but if you have too much of me you will surely fail. What am I?_

_**Confidence.** _

“Fish Mooney. She owns a club not far from here. Do you know her?” Oswald asked.

“I- I know _of_ her. She seems very… close with one of our homicide detectives.” Ed cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Ah, yes, Detective Bullock.” Oswald hummed, pressing his lips into a thin line as he nodded slowly.

“Whatever you’re thinking, I’m with you one hundred percent,” Ed affirmed eagerly, nodding a little. “I could kill _him_ , if you’d like!”

“I’m afraid Miss Mooney wouldn’t take kindly to that,” Oswald admonished, making Ed’s eyes drop and chin tilt in disappointment. “But, no matter. This city is filled with people, ripe for the plucking.”

“Right,” Ed breathed, not entirely sure how to respond. Anticipation was making it very hard for Ed to concentrate.

“Help me take care of this body, would you? I’m sure you’re an expert on such things, being in forensics and all.” Oswald nodded to the dead man, still laying on the floor.

“O-of course.”

There was something thrilling in showing off his skills to the other man, little frissons of excitement creeping up his spine every time Oswald smiled at him or praised a particular technique. Edward silently wished he had some of the chemicals they kept in the lab. The M.E would probably berate him if he found out, but it wouldn’t matter when Ed could have Oswald oohing and ahhing over dissolving flesh.

_Fun._

Afterwards, Oswald wiped his hands on his handkerchief, Ed forced to simply wipe his own on his trousers and pray that the stains wouldn’t be too telling.

“Okay,” Oswald broke the silence. “To fish’s.”

Ed followed the shorter man as he lead them back down the alley and out onto the street. Ed shivered, scowling at all the people rushing by. Or, perhaps staggering was a more accurate description for the hoards of tipsy-to-drunk people stumbling and giggling as they made their way to each other’s homes, pausing to vomit into drains or shove their tongues down each other’s throats depending on how far gone they were.

“Stay close. It’ll be fine,” Oswald murmured, hand resting on Ed’s arm. The gesture was strangely comforting, so Ed leant into it, smiling back at Oswald as they continued down the street together. He had to admit, it was a lot better walking this way, Oswald’s body radiating warmth next to him, their twin glares dissuading anyone who dared to stumble into their path.

Oswald was right in saying that Fish Mooney’s club was not far from where they were. It took them less than fifteen minutes to get there on foot.

“Here we are,” Oswald announced, his arm sweeping out at the neon sign, shaped like a fish’s skeleton rather appropriately.

“Your boss won’t mind me coming in with you?” Ed asked. He wasn’t exactly dressed for a club, and even if he were, he hardly deemed himself worthy of stepping into one of the finest establishments in Gotham.

“I don’t see why she would, seeing as she’s always telling me I should find more… _friends_ ,” Oswald finished, the word hanging strangely in the air. Ed’s brow furrowed as he tried to puzzle the meaning of the lengthy pause, but he was quickly sidetracked by Oswald ushering him in through the door.

Fish’s club club was _amazing_. The ceiling-to-wall drapes, secluded booths, redwood tables and hoards of well-dressed patreons _screamed_ luxury.

“You work here?” Ed breathed, eyes dancing over the multi-coloured bottles lining the wall behind the bar, a group of well-dressed bartenders glancing up at him before returning to their tasks of mixing elaborate drinks.

“Yup.” Oswald grinned at him, and Ed’s heart did a strange flutter-stutter in his chest.

“Oswald,” A deep, dark voice drawled behind them, the rolling tenor expressing an exuberant amount of control and power. Ed turned around, Oswald turning with him. They stared wide-eyed at what could only be Fish Mooney, her böse smile and sparkling eyes unmistakable.

“Hello, Miss Mooney,” Oswald greeted, bowing his head in respect. Ed scanned the woman, noting the stiletto heels, dark frock and lavish jewellery. “I hope you don’t mind, I’ve brought a friend here to show them where I work.”

“I can see that,” Fish purred, scanning Edward up and down with interest equal to his own. “Well, aren’t you a tall glass of milk?”

Ed bit his lip, mind scattering as he searched for something to say. “Um… I-I am alive without breath and cold as death. I am never thirsty but always drinking. What am I?”

“Uh…” Fish visibly faltered, blinking at him in surprise.

“Is… is that a _riddle_?” Oswald asked.

“Um… Yes?” Ed confirmed hesitantly. Crud, he hadn’t meant to make things so awkward. What a disaster. He just wanted to crawl into a hole and _die_.

“Is the answer ‘Fish’?” Oswald asked.

Ed breathed a sigh of relief. “Yes, it is.”

“How sweet,” Fish commented, looking between Ed and Oswald with a knowing smile. “You two have fun now.”

“D-does that mean I’m off for the night?” Oswald asked, his expression hopeful.

“Well, have you taken care of _business_ , Oswald?” Fish arched an eyebrow as she peered down at him.

“Y-yes, Miss Mooney. It’s all taken care of.” Oswald nodded.

“Then go ahead. I still have another man on my list, but I’m sure he can wait for tomorrow.” Fish smirked, expression shark-like.

“O-oh, please, I’d be happy to take some time and- and _deal_ with it,” Oswald told her.

She hummed, tapping her lips thoughtfully. Seeming to come to a decision, she leaned in and whispered something in Oswald’s ear, Ed averting his eyes politely.

“You be a good boy, now, Oswald,” She warned, waggling a finger and smiling again.

“Yes, Miss Mooney,” Oswald affirmed, nodding to her once before turning to take Edward by the elbow. “Let's go.”

Ed followed him out onto the street again, shivering a little at the temperature change. Oswald smiled, pulling him closer to keep him warm.

“What did she whisper in your ear? If you don’t mind me asking,” Ed inquired, his curiosity getting the better of him.

“A name and address,” Oswald told him.

“Oh.” Ed blinked, unsure how to respond.

“We can kill him together if you want,” Oswald suggested brightly.

Ed tilted his head, thinking it over. The man was going to die anyway, and he must have done _something_ wrong if Fish Mooney was ordering his demise. And Ed did _so_ want to be there with Oswald, turning a person into a _thing_ , bathing in blood and moonlight and Oswald’s pale, pale eyes.

“Okay.”

Oswald ordered a cab this time, explaining to him that the man in question lived in another part of the city. Ed didn’t complain, he was perfectly happy to be bundled up into the cab, the taxi’s heater and Oswald’s presence beside him quickly restoring his warmth, fingers and toes curling happily.

“We’re here!” Oswald announced, helping Ed out of the car before turning and paying the driver.

“Where to now?” Ed asked, staring up at the rundown apartment building in front of them.

“Floor seven, apartment A,” Oswald told him, already heading up the apartment steps, Ed following closely behind him. Ed examined the door, disappointed to find it didn’t have a keyhole but was secured by a lock code instead. He would have liked to show off his lock-picking skills to Oswald.

“What do we do?” He asked, motioning to the keypad.

“Don’t worry.” Oswald turned to a line of buttons, stepping up to the intercom. He pressed one, presumably for the man’s apartment. “Hello,” Oswald greeted in a heavily-accented voice. “My name is Dimitri from Odessa. I was told you could help me.”

“Come on up,” A gravelly voice replied, the words crackling through the speaker.

The buzzer sounded, Oswald giving him a wink before pushing through the door. Ed scurried in behind him, trying to tamp down the blush on his cheeks. Surely it was detrimental to his health to be blushing this much?

They climbed the stairs together, Oswald discreetly passing Ed a switchblade and pistol before drawing out his own. Ed frowned at his gun, fiddling with it in confusion. He almost tripped on the stairs when he heard the gun click, holding the pistol away from himself and looking desperately to Oswald for help.

“Relax, that’s just the safety,” Oswald told him, rolling his eyes. “You can put it back on. It’s not like we’re actually going to _shoot_ him, anyway. That would be no fun at all.”

“O-okay.” Ed gulped, complying with trembling hands. He hated the fact he was nervous. He was excited too, of course, his first kill, the rush of danger and darkness pulling at him. But he didn’t want to mess it up, not in front of Oswald who clearly knew what he was doing.

“Alright, that apartment there.” Oswald gestured to apartment A. Ed nodded, joining him as they walked together to the door. They locked eyes, nodding to each other and placing their respective guns in the waistbands of their trousers before Oswald leant forward and knocked.

“Comin’,” A gruff voice called, thumping footsteps sounding beyond the door. The door opened, revealing a very scraggly looking man with an unkempt beard, dirty face and yellowed singlet. A cigarette hung out of his mouth, flapping up and down as he spoke. “So? Whatcha want?”

“Ah, yes, I’m Dimitri, and this is Elijah,” Oswald said, revising his thick accent and nodding to Ed.

“Hello?” Ed tried, not sure how to do the accent.

“Sorry, he don’t speak many English,” Oswald apologized, his words convincingly stilted. “We come in, yes?”

“Sure.” The man shrugged, pulling the door open the rest of the way. Ed let out a sigh of relief as he followed Oswald inside, glad their plan had worked so far.

“Tis nice place you have,” Oswald remarked, looking around the room. It was a definite lie, considering the moulding brick and patches of white paint, not to mention the grungy looking furniture.

“Yeah. You wanna get on with this, or what?” The man asked, furrowing his brow impatiently as he folded his bulbous arms. All that _meat_ , ready for carving. Ed’s hands itched to sink his knife into him.

“Do you know what colour would make this place better?” Oswald inquired, ignoring the man’s previous statement. The man sputtered, scowling at them. “Blood red.” Oswald dropped his accent, revealing his gun with a grin, Ed’s hand going to his own as well, pointing it shakingly at the man, safeties clicking off in tandem.

“Oh, shit,” The man cursed, making Ed’s nose wrinkle. How hard was it to refrain from swearing? There was a multitude of words in the English language, he could have chosen _any_ other.

“Back up,” Oswald commanded, thrilling and dangerous as he gestured with his gun. The man complied, retreating into his makeshift kitchen/dining room. Oswald made him sit on a wooden chair, moving to tie his wrists while Ed kept his gun trained on him. “Fish Mooney says hi by the way. She’s sorry she had to miss this.” Oswald giggled, Ed joining him happily.

“That _bitch_ ,” The man spat. Oswald slapped the man. Ed couldn’t help his small squeal of delight.

“That’s my boss you’re talking about,” Oswald warned, his tone remaining jovial, however, as he resumed his hand-tying. Ed watched on, curiosity building.

“Do you think we could cut open his chest? I want to see if he has any fat around his heart,” Ed requested.

“What a brilliant idea, Edward,” Oswald praised. Ed blushed in response. Dang, not again.

“No, no, no!” The man pleaded, eyes widening and filling with tears. It was quite pathetic.

“We should probably find a gag,” Ed advised, searching for a suitable material. Locating a necktie and roll of duct-tape nearby, he tore a piece off, stuffing the tie into the man’s mouth before securing the tape over it. His cries were instantly muffled, only low moans and whines escaping him.

“Good work.” Oswald nodded. “Do you still have your knife?”

“Of course!” Ed confirmed, brandishing the object. The blade glinted in the dim light, sending tendrils of excitement up Ed’s spine.

“Fantastic! Now we get to work.”

Ed had cut open plenty of chests in his day. Not always with strict permission, but that hardly mattered. Still, it was nice to have Oswald’s hand guiding him, showing the difference between cutting with a surgical-scalpel and a pocket-knife. The man screamed and screamed before finally passing out. Rather disappointing, to say the least.

“I’m sorry.” Oswald frowned. “They’re usually more fun than this.”

“Oh, don’t worry, I’m having a great time!” Ed assured him happily. He truly was. They had to dispose of the wooden chair, the angle impeding their progress. Instead, they slid the man onto the floor, Ed wrinkling his nose as a layer of dust coated the knees of his trousers. They cut open the man’s stomach too, Ed marvelling at the warmth of it all, so different from all the corpses he’d ever touched. He grabbed the kidney, cutting it loose.

“Do you think we should sell it?” He asked, turning to Oswald. “It’s not particularly healthy, but I’m sure it could fetch us a nice pot’o’gold.”

“Yeah, no,” Oswald shook his head. “Fish doesn’t let us sell organs on the black market without express permission. But you can keep it if you’d like.”

Ed turned back to the organ, squishing it and enjoying how more blood spurted out. He sighed. It wasn’t a very practical thing to keep around his apartment, and if someone, anyone, were to drop by, they’d certainly be suspicious.

“I’m afraid not,” Ed sighed. “Perhaps something else?”

“How about a rib?” Oswald offered, sweeping his hand across the line of bones with a dramatic flare. “I’ll show you how to remove them with the knife.

“Okay,” Ed agreed. He settled on a rather sizable one, a smile stretching his mouth as Oswald’s hand wrapped around his, guiding the movements of the knife with expert precision. “You need one too,” he insisted once the bone was in-hand. “You could have the opposite one. Then we’ll match.”

“Okay,” Oswald agreed, smiling indulgently. They worked out the second rib, Ed grinning madly at the gaping hole they’d left. He slipped his hand inside, feeling around for the man’s heart. Locating it, Ed noted that there _was_ , indeed, a layer of fat surrounding it. Ed pulled the organ out through the slot, ignoring how slick with blood his hand had gotten to focus on the vessel. The valves had been sawn off at varying points, the tissue still red but cooling rapidly. He turned, placing the heart delicately in Oswald’s hands.

“Happy Valentine's day,” he declared.

Oswald snorted, rolling his eyes. “In case you haven’t noticed, it’s November.”

“So?” Ed shrugged. “How am I supposed to know when Valentine's day is?”

Oswald shook his head, chuckling. God, he was enchanting. “You are quite the peculiar man, Edward Nygma.”

“Oh,” Ed sighed, deflating a little.

“Don’t worry,” Oswald assured him, placing the heart on the floor beside them before taking Ed’s bloodied hands in his own. “I like it.”

Ed gasped, blinking rapidly. Oswald _liked_ him? Why?

Oswald tilted his head, that pale gaze sweeping down Ed’s face before catching his eye again. “Have you ever kissed anyone, Ed?”

“N-no,” Ed told him, breath stuttering in his lungs. When had it gotten so hot? Ed was sweating, moisture pooling along his brow and the small of his back.

“Me neither.” Ed probably should have expected it when Oswald leant in, pressing his lips to Ed’s, but he was so astonished, he simply froze. He couldn’t move. The kiss was dry and sweet, but Ed’s mind was too blanked to register much more than that.

“Um, Ed?” Oswald mumbled against his lips questioningly. Slowly, he pulled back, eyeing Ed’s no-doubt stunned expression hesitantly.

“Um...” Ed croaked.

Suddenly, Oswald launched himself backwards, away from Ed and the still body on the floor.

“Shit, sorry, _sorry_ , I completely misread the situation, a-and I shouldn’t have done that, and this is all wrong, and I’m so sorry, and-” Oswald babbled, eyes glazing over with a mix of horror and something else Ed couldn’t explain.

“Th-that’s okay,” Ed stuttered, blinking rapidly to help bring his brain back online again.

“No, it’s _not_. I would _hate_ it if Butch or one of the other men tried to do that to me. And now I’ve gone and ruined your first kiss...” Oswald rambled, face contorting into an expression of such deep sadness, Ed could feel it drilling a hole in the back of his eyes.

“Who’s Butch?” Ed asked sharply. He would _kill_ anyone who dared to touch Oswald that way. 

_What’s black and blue and dead all over?_

“Is that _seriously_ what you’re focusing on right now?” Oswald asked incredulously. Ed shrugged, averting his gaze. “Ed, I just _assaulted_ you. I took your first kiss without permission, and I ruined any chance of us be-”

“Calm down, Oswald.” Ed frowned at the bird-like man. 

“ _Calm down?_ You can’t be serious!” Oswald blustered.

“You just surprised me, Oswald. It’s really okay, I promise,” Ed assured him. He stared, waiting. Oswald just sat there, faintly shaking his head. It looked like the man wasn’t quite as clued in as he should be.

“Well?” Ed prompted expectantly.

“Well what?” Oswald spat. He seemed extremely grumpy, Ed noted.

“Well, are you going to kiss me again, or what?” Ed continued, rolling his eyes at Oswald’s inability to join the dots.

“What?” Oswald sputtered.

“Are you always this obtuse?” Ed asked, slightly worried. Oswald hadn’t _seemed_ unintelligent, but this new evidence suggested-

“I am _not!_ ” Oswald cried indignantly, cutting off Ed’s train of thought.

“Good,” Ed growled, practically leaping across the distance between them to press his lips against Oswald’s. It was wild, just like this night, the craziest night of Ed’s life. Oswald’s lips were fervent, pressing to his with an urgency Ed had never encountered. Ed found his hands tangling in Oswald’s hair, and he mentally winced as he realized they were still slick with blood. Oswald didn’t seem to mind, however, wrapping his arms around Ed’s waist, pressing his own stained hands to Ed’s back. 

Ed’s lips parted instinctively, Oswald tongue sweeping between them in response, dipping inside. Their movements were cautious and unhurried, Ed gasping for breath as Oswald licked into his mouth. Ed nearly bit the man’s tongue when it scraped against his palate, tantalizing sparks dancing behind Ed’s eyes as he groaned.

Oswald pulled back, smiling up at him. Ed whined, pleading. Why did Oswald stop?

“Oh, I get it now,” Oswald hummed knowingly, eyes twinkling. “You just wanted to be on top.”

“Maybe.” Ed shrugged non-committedly, suppressing a smile as it threatened to rise onto his face.

“Well, we’ll see about that then, won’t we?” Oswald asked smugly, tilting his head. Ed gave an undignified yelp as Oswald suddenly pushed Ed to the side, tipping him over onto his back and moving with him so he was straddling his hips. Oswald grinned down at him, eyeing him salaciously before leaning in, brushing their chests together. Ed let out an embarrassing whimper, immediately prevented from covering his face with his hands when Oswald took a hold of his wrists. 

“My name is Oswald Chesterfield Cobblepot,” Oswald growled, his lips vibrating against Ed’s ear, causing another high-pitched noise to escape him. They were _so close_. Ed could feel all the lines of Oswald’s body, could feel his breathing, (almost as he heavy as Edward’s) could feel his heartbeat (definitely as fast as Ed’s). He shook at the proximity, trying to resist the urge to roll his hips up as Oswald- “I am _always_ on top.”

Ed laughed breathlessly. “That can be arranged.”

Later, it took a _long_ time to scrub all the bloodstains from his clothes but, dear _Lord_ , it was worth it.

**Author's Note:**

> Yay :) I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it. As usual, all comments and kudos are greatly appreciated!


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